The petals and leaves twined around her fingers almost lovingly. It didn’t work with dry plants, and she couldn’t make the water itself do anything, but the water lilies, the weeds, the rushes, the kingcups—any wet plant—would dance right out of the water for her.
The trip would take about two weeks. They were to follow the Braedle Road, named for the early king who had commissioned it. It was a long, winding highway, a lifeline of the realm, and it connected to many smaller roads—including the old dirt path outside the village gates.
Mister Gale brought them several hard loaves of traveling bread, and Ma’am Kayley gave them bales of straw for the horses. Canteen after canteen of water was filled. Mister Henley and the other old folks donated what little money they had, most of which was very worn and left over from long-ago travels, for Dada had none. No one in Equane used it; bartering had worked just fine for decades.
Dada and Old Henley worried about whether the payts they had were still current. Had the king changed the money in recent years? Did anyone know? Old Henley went back to look through the laws.
* * *
“Mister Fish should teach me to shoot a spring-gun,” Dale declared the night before they were going to leave. He was helping Emeline roll their fish-oil lanterns in blankets to keep the glass from breaking. She snorted. “We’d be safer if three of us could fight!” he insisted.
Aladane, who sat on the divan watching them, sighed with envy.
“Fight who, Dale?” she asked, irritated. “No one’s going to attack us. We’ve got nothing of value to anyone.”
“He’d be better off teaching Emeline to shoot,” Aladane said, taunting Dale. “She’s the one who fought the Ithin!”
“Shut up!”
“I can’t believe I’m not going with you,” Aladane added, for the thousandth time. “Just think, if I had run across the bridge like you—”
“Like a fool, you mean?” Emeline said, and Dale frowned.
“I was going to,” Aladane insisted. “I would have!”
Emeline rolled her eyes and carried the lamps out the front door. She was relieved Aladane wasn’t going—Dale didn’t need to be encouraged.
The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow over the wagon that stood before the cottage. Dada and Mister Fish were tying down the bundles, a handful of villagers watching and calling out advice.
“You got those leather blankets I gave you for rain?” asked an old man.
“Yep,” Mister Fish said. The wagon had a leather half-roof on hinges that could be raised up over the passengers, but Emeline supposed the blankets were for the drivers.
“If you end up by the Hawking River, you can add to your vittles,” a woman offered. “My grand-dada said there’s good fishing there.”
“Those river hawks are vicious, though. They should keep away from there.”
“Ah, Fish could take out a hawk with no trouble.”
Emeline handed Dada the bundled lamps and watched him tuck them in the wagon.
“Don’t talk to any strangers, heart,” a woman advised her. “Stick close to your folk.”
Emeline nodded as Mister Gingern came plodding forward with his hands on his hips. “I’ll collect that lazy boy of mine now,” he told Dada. “I can’t seem to keep him away from yours with all this excitement. It’s gone to his fool head.”
“He’s inside,” Emeline said with a smile.
“Young folk always get excited when changes happen,” the old man said. “They never realize that change just means trouble.”
“Hush, don’t frighten the child,” someone told him.
Emeline glanced back as she turned to follow Mister Gingern into the house. Sometimes it seemed like the old folk in the village were always afraid, but now their words made her heart beat faster.
“Bless water, she ought to be frightened!” the old man continued. “Everything’s going to change now.”
* * *
Emeline woke with a start as Dada called up the ladder for her.
The sky was still dark through the loft window. Why was he waking her up so early? What was happening?
Then she remembered, and it tore the veil of sleepiness away.
She sat up quickly, wide awake. They were going to the capital. She pulled on a blue dress with a pattern of tiny stars and buckled up her bodice, listening to Dale and Dada moving around below. She washed her face, combed her hair, and stepped into her boots. Then she took a last look at the familiar little room and hurried down the ladder.
Dale stood in the middle of the sitting room, dressed, but with his blanket around his shoulders like a shawl.
“We’re actually leaving,” he told Emeline wonderingly.
“Come on, let’s eat breakfast.” She took him by the shoulders and guided him toward the table.
The night sky outside was just beginning to soften when they climbed into the wagon. Ma’am Kayley’s big brown horses stood brushed and harnessed, and they snorted and stamped their feet, eager to go.
But do they know where they’re going? Emeline wondered as she sat next to Dale on the second bench seat. Or do they think we’re just going to plow a field?
Mister Fish sat on the front bench with Dada, holding the reins. The two of them wore their farming clothes—coarse trousers and button-down shirts—but Emeline knew that Dada’s gray coat and flat cap were packed in the wagon.
Fish’s wife stood nearby and waved up at him. She was a hardy, cheerful woman, and Dada had asked her to keep an eye on his field as well as theirs.
“Don’t you be too long. The boys’ll make a mess of the farms,” she said, sounding unconcerned about it.
“You tell them I’ll wring their necks,” Fish told her.
Old Henley and his son Alvine stood nearby as well, looking sleepy, but wishing them luck. Things were moving very quickly now; Emeline gripped the side of the wagon.
Mister Fish flopped the reins lightly across the horses’ backs and they started forward with a lurch. Neighbors followed them as they rolled away from their comfortable cottage, but most of the village was quiet and still.
They were clopping toward the village gates, the tall slabs of old, red-painted slate staring back at them expectantly. Emeline had never gone through them. Her breath hitched.
Alvine Henley came around the wagon and pushed the gates open, just as if he did it every morning. She turned and looked back as they rode through; Endrina had joined the farewell party and was waving. Emeline waved back. Then she turned around to face the dusty road ahead, swallowing hard.
Don’t you dare cross the water, Ithin.
Braedle Road stretched across a sea of hills and valleys, connecting the patchwork of nameless paths that led to villages like Equane. The wagon trundled along one of those paths, and Emeline stared out at the land around them, unbroken, for the first time in her life, by cottages or canals.
To the south, behind them, lay the receding gates of Equane and the dark smudge of forest beyond.
To the west were open woodlands, too sparsely treed for Dark Creatures, with the gates of another village just visible in the distance.
North and east were rolling hills, lavender-colored in the morning light. They were patched with clusters of black pine, mist drifting between the copses.
To her, everything was new.
After the wagon had rumbled along for nearly an hour, the shadow of mountains appeared, far away to the north. Emeline realized she was gaping at the ridgeline openmouthed, just like Dale, so she elbowed him in the side and drew herself up.
“Are those real mountains?” he asked, a little hoarse. “Is that the Dinene?”
“No, the Dinene’s much farther than that,” she told him uncertainly.
“What other mountains are there?”
“There are many,” Dada said, speaking over his shoulder. “But those up
ahead are part of the Spine. Look.”
He handed them one of the maps and Dale took it eagerly. It was a thick piece of cloth, painted with a miniature version of the tapestry in the meeting hall.
The kingdom was shaped like a bean, with an inward curve toward the west near the capital. Just above the capital was a line of mountains marked THE SPINE, and at the far northern border of the kingdom was a much larger and more jagged range: THE DINENE MOUNTAINS.
“The ocean,” Dale said, running his fingers along the blue paint at the border of the kingdom. The sea swept around the southwest and up to the curve near the capital. Emeline’s eyes ran over the rest of the map-cloth to settle on THE VINDANE REGION, a place she thought she dimly remembered Mama mentioning. It was made up of a handful of villages, precariously close to dense forest.
Beyond the borders to the east and the north, the map was painted gray. Those were the Outer Lands.
“Why does the king have his summer home at the ocean down south instead of right there by the capital?” Dale asked, pointing.
“Because of the great harbor,” Dada told them. “Too many steamships coming in and out to be very peaceful.”
Fish grunted. “If he wants peace, he shouldn’t be king.”
“I want to see the great harbor,” Dale announced.
“What for?” Fish asked, flicking at the horses.
“Just to see it! To see all that water…”
“Not me. What good is water that you can’t drink?” Fish said, and Dada chuckled.
“And all the ships,” Dale continued, undaunted.
Emeline looked at the gray surrounding the kingdom. There was very little in the History about those lands; even Dada knew only a few stories. “Are there any ships from the Outer Lands?”
“They don’t know how to build ships in the Outer Lands,” Fish said flatly. “They don’t know much. Anyone will tell you.”
“Well, no,” Dada said, “I’ve read that sailing ships do dock from the Outer Lands, and that they’re very interesting contraptions.” Fish looked surprised by that.
“Really? What happens to the people who are on them?” Dale asked.
“They do their trading and head back,” Dada replied.
Emeline had seen pictures of elaborate steamships. She tried to imagine one blowing into the harbor from beyond the known world. What would it be like? It made no sense to say that people of the Outer Lands were ignorant if they could build ships.
“What happens if the crew want to live here?” she asked.
“Well, they have to swear loyalty to the king. If they refuse, they get sent back by the harbor guards. But I’m not sure how all of that works.” Dada pointed up ahead. “There’s the Braedle Road.”
Fish was already turning the horses, and Emeline watched as the broad, flat strip of packed dirt came closer. Before long they were riding on it due north, and the going was much smoother. The great road spread out ahead of them as far as she could see, fading into the mist.
“Does the road go through any forest?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“It used to, Old Henley said,” Dada told her. “But now it only skirts the edge of the woods near the Spine.”
“See, here.” Dale showed her on the map how the line of the road brushed past a section of green near the mountain range. She nodded, relieved.
A shadow in the woods. Moving like a snake.
“Yep, now we just sit back and ride straight for a long ways,” Fish said.
The sun was up in full now, warming the top of Emeline’s head. She climbed off the seat and settled herself into a space on the wagon floor, leaning against the side. That was one thing about wagon seats: There was nothing to lean one’s back against. Dale seemed unbothered by it, slouched over the map as if he had no spine.
They rode along the smooth, quiet road for hours, the scenery unchanging. Emeline grew both sleepy and hungry, her excitement beginning to fade. Fish and Dada had been talking to each other in low voices, but now Fish turned around and said, “Pass me a bit of salted fish, will you, son?”
Dale jerked as if he’d fallen half-asleep. He yawned and then climbed past Emeline into the back of the wagon, looking for the right bundle. “I hope that fog up there doesn’t spook the horses,” Fish was saying.
Dale suddenly let out a yelp.
Emeline spun around as Fish reined in the horses, jerking the wagon to a stop. Her jaw dropped. There, among the packed rolls and bundles in the back of the wagon, huddled Aladane Gingern. Dale had clearly just uncovered him. Her jaw dropped.
“Bless water!” Dada exclaimed.
“Aladane!” Emeline cried. The boy tried to seem smaller, squeezing himself deeper between the hay bales.
“You snuck onto the wagon?” Dale asked him. He sounded both astonished and very impressed.
“Aladane Gingern, what in the kingdom are you doing here?” Fish roared. He and Dada jumped down from the front seat and were on him in a second, yanking him out of the wagon.
“I’m sorry! I just wanted to come!” Aladane wailed. His face was red and his brown hair disheveled, sticking straight up.
“Your parents must be going mad looking for you!” Dada said, shaking his head.
“No, no, I left a note! They’ve gotten it by now,” Aladane insisted. Emeline burst out laughing, and Dada gave her a sharp look.
“I’ll whip you now and they’ll whip you later!” Fish declared, even though they all knew he wouldn’t.
“Keep your voice down, Fish,” Dada said. “We don’t know who else is out along the road.”
Emeline realized how far their voices must travel over wide-open land. She glanced around, self-conscious, but the view was unchanged; a cool breeze from the north drifted over them.
“I guess we need to turn around and take him home,” Dada said reluctantly.
“What, go all the way back?” Dale exclaimed. “Can’t he just come with us?”
“I brought my own food,” Aladane said meekly. He looked at Emeline for help, but she shook her head.
“You are absolutely impossible. When were you planning on showing yourself?” she asked.
“When I thought it’d be too late to take me back,” he muttered. He looked ashamed, but there was also a glint in his eyes.
“Can’t we just take him along? His dada will punish him later,” Dale said, appealing to his own father. “We’ll lose all that time if we go back!”
“I’m prepared for serious trouble when I get back. I just want to see the world first,” Aladane said grandly. Dada snorted at that; Fish grumbled and shook his head.
“You’re damn right you’ll be in serious trouble,” he snapped.
But then he looked at Dada, who sighed and nodded. They would lose a day if they turned around, eating up more food and wearying the horses.
“All right, I don’t want to hear one word of complaint from you,” Fish told Aladane. “About anything.”
The boys broke into triumphant grins, and then immediately looked sober. Emeline groaned. Part of her couldn’t help but be happy for him, but she had been relieved before that this troublemaker wasn’t coming along. He was a bad influence on Dale, after all.
“I won’t complain about anything!” Aladane exclaimed.
“Honestly. Like this is all a game,” Fish muttered. He and Dada circled back to the front, looking thoroughly irritated. Dale and Aladane elbowed each other happily until Emeline gave them a disapproving stare. She hoped for Aladane’s sake that the trip was worth the trouble he’d be in when they returned.
Fish slapped the horses again, and they were off. They rode for several hours, the boys chattering quietly over the map, and then they caught up with the fog. It settled over them slowly, dimming the light, until the sun faded to a blurry orb Emeline could gaze into without blinking. The horses slowed d
own, and one of them whinnied, but Fish urged them on gently.
“This is spooky,” Aladane said, sounding happy about it.
“Who knows what lurks in the fog of the fields?” Dale chimed in excitedly.
“Well, we know it’s not Dark Creatures. Too damp,” Emeline said hopefully, peering out beyond the road.
“Dampness doesn’t keep away evil men,” Fish muttered.
“No, but that aim of yours ought to,” Dada told him. He smiled.
“How did you get so good at shooting, Mister Fish?” Aladane asked.
“Practice, son. I was sickly as a boy, so my mama used to make me stay outside all day to sport and toughen up. But my brothers wouldn’t let me play with them because I was the youngest.” Fish scratched his head under his floppy hat. “I would line up rocks out in the field and knock them down with a dart-shooter. When my dada saw I was good at it, he got me a spring-gun.”
Dale’s eyes brightened. “Maybe I should start practicing with a dart-shooter.”
Emeline reached into the back for a food bundle. She unwrapped it and doled out hard bread to Dale and Dada, then pulled on Mama’s cloak against the clinging fog. The horses clip-clopped steadily in the stillness.
was nose-deep in Keldare stories. In the History, they had great strength and daring—they were adventurers as well as troubadours, scalers of the Dinene Mountains, masters of the hunt. But there were also stories of old men whose songs were said to come true, and young girls whose singing could seduce the birds. Was that magic?
One section caught her attention: It is said some Keldares can interact with elements of nature in a magical sense. This is seen in the story of the Keldare Fire-Bringer who entertained King Braedle. Despite many witnesses, none could determine how he controlled the great flames that danced over the court. Whether such abilities come from a special circumstance of birth or from intimacy with ancient enchantments is a matter of debate….
Emeline ran her finger under the first line, reading it again. Elements of nature? Like green growth, or water?
Between the Water and the Woods Page 4